


Weak these days

by everything_else



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, i just have feelings about them okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 08:50:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18634831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everything_else/pseuds/everything_else
Summary: Ivar cooked that evening, and Edvard wished he had the strength to get up and help him, but his body was weak these days. They both knew it. Instead he watched, and listened, to the stove’s blue flame, and Ivar’s silence.“I don’t think you’ve been here before.” He said eventually.“No. I only ever visited the last place, with Julie.”They were both quiet while Ivar chopped, and the room felt a bit smaller than it usually did. Dusk was settling outside the window.“It smells like dope” Ivar muttered.It did. Isak seemed to forget that just because Edvard couldn't hear didn't mean he couldn't smell. “Don’t act like we never smoked.” Edvard raised his eyebrows at Ivar, who had turned around against the counter.“We did, in our own apartment.”//Based on the fic Nobody Loves Me Like You.





	Weak these days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cuteandtwisted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuteandtwisted/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Nobody Loves Me Like You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12201243) by [cuteandtwisted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuteandtwisted/pseuds/cuteandtwisted). 



> I just have a lot of feelings about Edvard okay

They were kissing in the kitchen, and Edvard and Ivar had to be a little more careful when they were young, but they were still so like them. So Edvard couldn’t help his smile when they turned around, all startled and lovesick and young, so young.

_Who gets this invested in teenagers? Lonely old people, that’s who._

But Ivar was smiling as well, though maybe as much at Edvard as at the blushing boys in front of them.

“I suppose that’s Isak and Even” he said once they’d made their leave.

“Who else?”

“They sound exhausting." Ivar started putting away some of the shopping he’d brought with him, opening and closing the cupboard doors with quiet thumps. He still wasn’t looking at Edvard as much as Edvard wished he would. "I would have made them move out months ago.” 

“They’re alright. And they help me through my old age crisis.”

_They keep it from getting too quiet around here._

“Well I hope they do some house work as well” said Ivar. He used a tone that Edvard knew but hadn’t heard in a while; it meant ‘you’re far too nice to people, but I know you’ll never change’. “Anyway, I’m here now, so you can tell the woman who comes around that she doesn’t need to for a while. She's not very good at it anyway, judging by this place."

He cast a teasing glance over at Edvard, who just smiled, and shook his head.

_Aren’t we a little old for this?_

 

Ivar cooked that evening, and Edvard wished he had the strength to get up and help him, but his body was weak these days. They both knew it. Instead he watched, and listened, to the stove’s blue flame, and Ivar’s silence.

“I don’t think you’ve been here before.” He said eventually.

“No. I only ever visited the last place, with Julie.”

They were both quiet while Ivar chopped, and the room felt a bit smaller than it usually did. Dusk was settling outside the window.

“It smells like dope” Ivar muttered.

It did. Isak seemed to forget that just because Edvard couldn't hear didn't mean he couldn't smell. “Don’t act like we never smoked.” Edvard raised his eyebrows at Ivar, who had turned around against the counter.

“We did, in our own apartment!”

Edvard smiled. He felt warm then, with the memories of their shared apartment, cheap and decrepit as it was, and at Ivar’s annoyance on his behalf. Because yeah, the marijuana smell was annoying sometimes, but they were young, and selfish, and he would have done the same.

“You’re officially a grumpy old man.” He told Ivar. “A destiny fulfilled.”

Ivar frowned. “I beg your pardon? Who are you calling old? I have more hair than you.”

The truth was he was just the same. He was just the same.

“That’s true, although I wouldn’t count your chickens. I’ve heard it can all fall out overnight.”

It had been years since he’d heard Ivar laugh, and he’d been longer without it, but it was still the most wonderful sound. It made him feel different, not like old Edvard, who needed meds and a wheelchair, but just Edvard. Around Ivar he was always just Edvard.

They ate carrot and fresh orange soup at the creaky wooden table and they talked even though every moment felt like something precious.

“So you lied to them?” Ivar asked, amused.

“I had to! You don’t understand, they're are impossible. I think I’ll be dead before those two have a proper conversation.”

He was joking, of course he was joking, but he was used to getting away with those jokes. It only took one look at Ivar to remember: not with him.

“Don't say that. You can’t say that to me.”

 

Ivar had to help him over to the sofa, and Edvard hated it. He hated having Ivar's arm around his waist to feel how much lighter he was now. They watched Skal Vi Dance, because Edvard needed something bright to make the room feel less empty, and Ivar complained quietly. 

“It is a bit heteronormative” Edvard allowed.

Ivar shook his head, a smile in his voice. “This is why you shouldn’t live with teenagers.” he murmured. “That and that photo Helga emailed me of you in a backwards cap.”

“So you do know her name?" Edvard teased. "That was my birthday, I was told it suited me.”

Ivar sounded nothing but fond. “We have to keep our dignity in old age, Edvard.”

On the TV, a couple were spinning around the floor, falling in and out of step and hold. 

"I never had much dignity around you."

Ivar's smile faded then, but his eyes were green, so green. _Beautiful._

“You’re still beautiful, you know." said Edvard. He brought a thumb to try to smooth some of the lines between Ivar's eyebrows. "Except for this. Too much frowning, I told you.”

“I missed you." Ivar admitted. He caught Edvard's hand before he could withdraw, curling his fingers tightly around it. They were thinner now, wrinkled, but still warm.

 _I know. But we_   _made our beds._

Edvard had missed him too, enough that it hurt sometimes, but he learned to live and smile without him. He was good at it now, and Ivar was there when it mattered. He was there at the wedding, and he was there at the funeral, when he held him all night to keep the guilt and grief from consuming him.

It was like that book Even gave him on their birthday, about names and feelings and first love. It wasn’t the strongest love, or the most important- he had been married for twenty years, and gave more to his wife than he’d ever allowed himself to give Ivar- but he still felt that if one of them died, or when, the other would feel it, and the earth would shake.

Edvard kissed his temple. His body and heart were weak these days, and he let Ivar pull him closer. The dance couple were holding hands as well, flushed and nervous in front of the judges.

"They were a disaster." Ivar murmured, and Edvard smiled.

Isak and Even would be upstairs right now, doing God knows what kinds of damage to each other’s hearts, and he rooted for them, he really did. But he knew that if it never worked between them, they would be okay. They would find other lovers, with whom it was less complicated, less painful, and they would live long, full, happy lives. He could tell these sorts of things. Those boys were strong, and though he didn’t think of himself as very wise, that was one thing his time on earth had taught him. They would be okay, and they would never lose what they had. Because if it didn’t work, and they didn’t get married in velvet suits and a hall decked with flowers, maybe they would end up somewhere like this, lying together on a sofa with the TV on low.


End file.
